House of the Wolf
by Picklesquidly The Warlock
Summary: Ever since his mother's death, Alfred felt lost and unwanted. That's why he began to take refuge in the forest, searching for a wolf, which he subconsciously hopes may fill the void in his heart, and help him find a real home where he belonged. That would only happen of course, if he finds it. — — — *Updated better summary* Ameripan! Rated T for language. Please R&R! Enjoy! — — —


**Please read the Authors Note (Feel free to skip it though, since it's a bit long.):**

**Hey there! This is a story that I've been looking forward to writing for a while after I got the idea (I just never had time to start). As a huge fan of Tolkien's work and the idea of intelligent yet realistic animal relations as in Richard Adams's Watership Down. I've always wanted to write an ancient and mythical story like this; they've always been my favorites. I love making my own little worlds for characters to live and interact in, so I think this story will be very fun to write. This particular story is actually based on a personal experience of mine, when I went exploring in the forest by my house (without telling my parents; they freaked later.) and saw a coyote or wolf in the trees; after that I went there every week to see if I could find it again.**

**Theres one thing I want to clarify first: This is not a AU where the characters are actually countries (In fact, I doubt that the countries even exist in this time frame, or even if its the same Earth) but that they are actually in a different AU. I'd like to portray this as a time before things like electricity and separate diplomatic nations and such, but rather as a time when humans were superstitious and that, in fact, these kind of magical things may have existed. Think of it as one of those old folk tale stories you'd beg your parents to tell before bed.**

**Thank you for being interested in this story, and of course and always, enjoy.**

_Chapter 1_

_Hellebores and a Wolf_

_There was a time when I walked into the forest by my home. Brother told me never to go there; he said that there were creatures in the woods, like bears, foxes, and lynxes that wouldn't hesitate to rip you to shreds. He was right; I'd once seen a hunter carried out of the woods half dead, with his stomach fairly enough ripped right out from him. You couldn't walk in there without a weapon, just in case a panther takes a liking to you, even though being attacked was uncommon. But, Brother said, there were supposedly other things in the trees that dwelled in silence, even more dangerous and unknown to anyone still alive in those parts. Tales of winged snakes and birds that flew under water, and trees that came alive and walked. There was an old man in the village that even claimed that a butterfly had come to him and sang in an ancient language that hadn't been spoken in centuries. _

_But no one really believed in these little myths anymore, and mostly the only caution was to not get eaten by a wild animal. At least, thats what everyone else thought. I knew different. I knew there was something in those woods, something that must have sparked all of these legends that the grandmothers now told their children._

Alfred pulled down the covers from his face, blinking rapidly to wake himself from his grogginess. Morning already. It felt to him that he had only gotten a few blinks of sleep. After such a long time of the same routine, his body was trained to get up at this ungodly time. He yawned and stretched out his arms, using his feet to kick off the rest of the thin blankets. Alfred stood up and looked around drowsily, then ran his fingers through his unkempt blonde hair.  
"I hate mornings."  
Alfred rubbed his eyes and pulled off his sleepwear, then opened his closet to put on a proper shirt and pants, and a worn leather jacket. He then grabbed a pair of tall leather boots, and slipped both of them on, lacing them up tightly to his feet. Alfred then walked across the room to a wooden drawer up against the wall, and opened one. Inside was a belt, a knife that was hidden in a sheathe, and a hunting bow equipped with a quiver of arrows. There were also two small pouches: one with some silver coins, and the other filled with small round sugar cookies, to take as a snack.

The boy smiled slightly and picked up the belt, fastening it to himself and then attaching the knife to it. He then picked up the quiver and bow and slung them over his shoulder, and then lastly, took the two pouches and shoved them into his trouser pockets. He then turned around to close the drawer again, but stopped. In the far corner of the drawer was a upside down, small piece of worn paper, tattered and folded. At the sight of this scrap Alfred's eyes lightened in acquiesce, and he reached in to take it, pulling it out in between his middle and index fingers. Carefully and gently he opened up the folded paper, and walked to the other side of the room, to his window. In through the glass pane were soft but bright beams of moonlight, and he held the paper in it so he could see.

The paper was a picture.

More specifically, it was an old, small drawing that was meticulously sketched into a small, now yellowed paper. It looked weary and ancient, but somehow carried a sort of bright, nostalgic feeling to it. Etched into the paper was what looked like a portrait of a beautiful young woman who was wearing a soft, warm smile. Her long locks, which were colored black in the drawing, framed her face in perfect, slightly messy bangs. Underneath them were bright brown eyes, curious, yet wise and understanding.

"Bye, Mom." Alfred smiled a little and kissed the picture, then returned it to it's place in the back of the drawer. He then slowly opened the door of his room, peering into the darkness of the hallway. It was technically morning, but the sky was still as black as the dark Hellebores that grew in the grass-edges, leaving the halls void of any light. Even so, they were his favorite flowers in the world. His brothers often teased him, since Alfred enjoyed going out to pick them. They were his mother's favorite too.

There were no lanterns lit, as most everyone in the village was still asleep, besides the traders in the square that kept their little shops open for the wanderers and nomads that passed through often. (In fact, as for their location in the middle of a crossroad, Alfred's home was quite busy and bustling with caravans and travelers). He took a quick look into the hallway to make sure no one was there before slowly and steadily creeping out of the room, shutting the door with utmost caution.  
At the end of the hall he plucked a small lantern from a table in the dining room, and drew across a match to light the wick. The back door of the house was only a few cautious steps away—

"Alfred? Fancy seeing you up. What are you thinking, wandering like a shadow at this late hour?"

Alfred froze in his footsteps, mouthing a silent curse. _So close.  
_Slowly, he turned around to face the owner of the voice with a guilty, sheepish grin.

"Ah.. tending to the garden, Arthur?"

In front of Alfred now was a frowning, thick-browed young man, who looked slightly older than Alfred. The bushes above his eyes were furrowed together in an unhappy manner, but were almost concealed by the sandy colored locks that fell over his temple in a bed-headed way, tangled and unbrushed. He was dressed in his nightgown and had circles under his eyes, obviously just awoken from slumber.

"And how would one care for a garden with a bow and a knife? Sew the seeds with arrows?" He replied scathingly.

"Actually, rather I'd use 'em to dig the plot."

Arthur glared at Alfred silently, his anger clearly expressed in his livid green eyes. The younger one guessed that his brother did not exactly appreciate his joke. He sighed and breathed in deeply.

"I… I wanted to…"

"—Go to the forest, as usual." Arthur finished for him, his tone laced with disdain. "Are you serious, Alfred? Every morning you stay in those stupid woods, looking for those dumb creatures!"

"I 'ent!" Alfred retorted angrily, slamming his hand down on the table. "And if I were, what have you got to do with it?"

Arthur narrowed his eyes into thin green slits. "You're chasing after invisible creatures, Alfred. Skin-Changers? Really? Those stories that Mum and Da used to tell you were just that: stories. Wolves aren't real. They never were."

Alfred turned away, glaring down at the floor away from his brother's gaze.

"How long have you been searching? You'll never find it. You've been looking for so long that if there was an ancient wolf in the forest, you would have found it already." Arthur put his hands on Alfred's shoulders. "You'll get killed in that forest if you continue to visit it. Please go to bed now."

Alfred wrestled himself out of Arthur's hands and ran to the door, flinging it open.

"I'm going to find it!" He cried. "And until I do, I 'ent coming back!"

With that, Alfred fled out of the house, slamming the door behind him. Arthur immediately went after his younger brother, opening the door back up and sticking his head outside yelling, "Get back 'ere this instant!"

But he was already gone.

By the time Alfred had reached the far edge of the forest, the dawn sun was already beginning to peak out from behind the mountain tops that encircled the only small part of the world he knew. Even from this far away view he could see the old stone ruins that lined the crevices of the steppes, already beginning to flow over with white snow. Alfred quickly took notice of this. This year's winter was coming earlier than usual; it would be only a short while before the fluffy white stuff would begin to fall into the forest and village in gently drifting snow. But at this moment, any frost that dusted the land would be melted by the Great Star's warmth. Soon even the inside of the forest would be flooded with the sun's light, so he decided to get the earliest start possible.

The light-haired boy stalked around the rim of the forest for a little while, searching for the small, well-trodden path that led into the darkness of the woods. Once he found it, Alfred began to walk in, removing the bow from his shoulder. Instead he carried it loosely in his hand, equipped also with a single arrow, in case of a sudden attack. His lantern definitely came in handy now. The woods were blindingly dark, and it was easy to trip over a rock or tree root if you didn't see where you were going, or you might run straight into a hunters trap or some sort of predator. nevertheless, Alfred enjoyed the night as much as the day. He felt alone and secluded, just him and his own mind.

"Where would a wolf hide?" Alfred asked himself, kneeling to the ground to search for tracks. He learned how to look for creatures by their prints by his father, before he died. His father said that there could be prints in soft soil or under fallen leaves, and in the snow, but Alfred never listened to his dad's boring speeches about "wilderness" and "survival." To him it was just nonsense, and he'd much rather listen to his mother's lovely voice as she taught him about all kinds of beautiful stories about the forest.

Alfred cursed and stood back up, jogging further into the trees. Maybe if there was a water source or something; but he'd never found a lake or pond in the forest before.

"Useless." Alfred grumbled to himself, lightly slapping his forehead with his palm. "Theres no way I'd be able to find it like this." He pushed past the overhanging branches of the trees, careful not to let them scratch up his face. "If only I could get past these trees, I could look much better."

Then, out of nowhere, a brilliant idea came to Alfred's head. "Of course!" He exclaimed aloud once again, immediately shedding all of his weapons and heavy things, placing them neatly under a tall, large oak tree and covering them with a coat of fallen leaves. He then walked around the gigantic tree several times, looking up and down for the best placement of branches.

Once Alfred was satisfied, he placed both hands into the crooks of the tree's bark and heaved himself up, and began climbing up the tall length of the oak tree.

_If I get to the top of the tree, I'll be able to see all around!_ He thought.

Of course, getting one's self up a large tree is no easy task, and Alfred found himself to almost fall off on more than one occasion. After a while of climbing, Alfred looked up. The brightly lit tips of the tree branches still seemed far away, and no closer than they were when he first began. Alfred frowned and let out a great sigh, and continued to inch his way up the great, rough body that stretched seemingly to the clouds. Nimbly as possible he found footholds in branches and twists of the bark, slowly but surely pulling himself up towards the brightly lit canopy of the woods.

Finally Alfred took foot on the thinnest branches in the tree, trying to keep himself from falling of the sparse, lithe forks. He felt like the top of the canopy was just inches above his head, as he could feel the slight warmth of the morning sun upon his dusty blonde hair. Encouraged, the boy slunk up the sparsest branch; his scratched, sore fingers grasped tiredly but firmly around the bark. He then pushed his head through the last coverings of the broad, wide leaves, finally able to see through the thick brown leaves of the tree.

Alfred's eyes stretched wide in bewilderment. It looked as though the forest was on fire.

In truth, it was only the flaming light of the sun that made it the trees appear tindered. The sun, which was earlier only barely peeking over the austere white bones of the mountains, was now open and full in its awe some great magistery. Her beautiful glow set the sky ablaze, which stretched widely across the landscape in a soft, intense red-orange sunrise. The light reached all the way from the distant stone steppes to the faraway downs south of the village, embracing the Earth in her welcoming red arms. The trees now seemed to dance in a fleeting, slow wave in the ambience, as If the entire vastness of the forest was but a golden field of grass, swaying silently and calmly in the tides of an afternoon breeze. Weaving occasionally in between were the streams and rivers, which now looked strikingly similar to molten rivers of gold. Absentmindedly Alfred wondered if he could find the little village in the middle of this beautiful, soft sun. As he turned and looked down, he could indeed view the village that he grew up in, basking in the warm sunlight without a single care in the world. He could see the market already being set up in the middle of the village, and the small, homely cottages that lined in close, neighborly proximity at the edge of the forest. He suddenly realized that the bakery, run by Sally Mae, would be opening at right about this time, and Arthur would be rousing his little sibling, Matthew, up to eat breakfast and to tend to the garden. Suddenly remembering the argument he had with his older brother, and turned away from the village, instead shifting his sight back to the forest. He suddenly realized to wonder if there was a foreseeable end to the forest, and craned his neck to take a look. He could not see the other end of the woods, and they seemed to simply disappear interminably into the mountains.

"To think that no one else in the village had seen this," Alfred said breathily, awed by the spectacular new view this new height had brought him. "If only I could capture this moment to share with everyone back at home."

shielding his eyes, Alfred turned to the sun once again, letting the warm redness engulf his face in a gentle, warm caress. She seemed so close; so beautiful. It now seemed impossible that the sun was actually a lifetime away from his Earth, for now it seemed to rest just on the mountains above the woods. The sun must be right here. It almost felt like... He could just touch it.

Carefully, Alfred began to stretch out his hands towards the sun, leaning off the tree branch to further himself as much as possible. The tip of the tree began to bend dangerously in his unbalanced weight as he attempted to reach out.

_Maybe I can fly there, _he thought. _Fly, and never come back._

Suddenly, the tree branch broke.

with a startled gasp Alfred felt himself falling, falling, down towards the earth, the leave-topped soil twirling closer and closer to him. He was only able to let out a sharp, loud shriek as he plummeted through several tree branches, which would have torn through his clothing and skin naught his thick leather jacket was clad upon his shoulders. Alfred reached out again, this time towards the leaves to try and gain a hold to prevent, or at least slow his fall. Yet he only crashed through branch after branch anyways, scraping his face and jarring his bones in the most unkindly manner. Alfred was actually afraid he was going to die, until his reaching hands managed to grasp a couple branches, somewhat gentling his descent before they were forced to let go again. He bounced about between tree branches until finally he felt a sharp, horribly painful force against his back, like being solidly whacked with a heavy log. The movement then stopped, although his vision continued to swirl in dizzying circles.

Alfred groaned, slowly sitting himself upright with the use of his arms. The very first thing he did was to check to make sure that no bones were broken. He lifted his legs, but immediately a sharp, excruciating pain ran up from his ankle up his body, causing him to cry out in pain. "Definitely broken." He hissed grimly. His back, too, hurt awfully, though it was also not shattered, just a little bruised.

"Curse 'ese trees." Alfred grumbled, then laid flat on his back again. His brain was still swimming and dazed, and he could hardly see out of his eyes, for the ground seemed as though it was tilting and swirling around him. So he closed them, and gave himself a short moment to rest. He didn't even want to think about how loud of a racket he had just caused, with all his yelping and branch-breaking as he went down.

Suddenly it hit him, when he realized that he could have accidentally lured in a predator that thought there was prey in distress. Alfred suddenly began to panic, and instinctively tried to get up to reach for his weapons at the tree's trunk, but he was stopped by the sharp, jarring pain that throbbed in his ankle, and fell again on his back. _Dammit, I need to get to my bow and arrow. At least my knife! _He carefully flipped over and used his hands and unscathed leg to sort of crawl his way towards the tree trunk, reaching for his things that were stashed underneath the leaves.

He was just barely in arm's reach of his knife when something in the corner of his eye move in the shadows. Arthur froze for a moment, paralyzed in terror. _I'm going to die. I'm going to die. I'm going to die._ _Fuck!_ His eyes widened as he pressed himself against the trunk of the tree, his hands absentmindedly reaching for his hunting knife. Once his fingers found it he clasped it tightly, knuckles turning white. His scared blue eyes were wide and terrified as he stared into the shadows of the shrubs and trees, watching intently for another movement in the leaves. Another sound wasn't made by either Alfred or who or what ever was hiding, and the world seemed still to him for hours. He gulped, and slowly raised the shaking knife in front of him, protectively. If it was something that wanted to eat him, then he would at least go down with a fight.

He was jolted out of thought once again though when the bushes rustled again. There was definitely something larger than a mouse or rabbit there, and it was creeping closer and closer towards him. Alfred was completely sure by now that this invisible creature knew that he was there, or even that it knew that Alfred was aware of it. Alfred took in a deep breath and held it, waiting.

Then out of the shade of the trees, came a wolf.


End file.
